Slime and Queens and Choices, Oh Martha
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Ten and Martha just want to go to the beach. Alien Queens, some difficult choices and lots and lots of slime get in the way. And a lyrics quiz. Rated T for generally mature concepts. Reposted to repair FFnet's unwanted edits.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

_I don't own the rights to any of these songs or their lyrics. They remain the property of the respective owner._

_It was fun using them though!_

This is a repost - for some reason, this website keeps removing the name of the planet. I'll keep reposting this until they leave it alone - but just in case, this is also up at An Archive Of Our Own - precisely because they DO NOT remove words you type.

* * *

**.**

**ONE**

**.**

"Catch!" she called, tossing the small tub of ice-cream at him. He caught it and pulled the top off with enthusiasm, throwing his feet onto the console, crossing them at the ankles. He dug his spoon in the top of the ice-cream, which was cold enough to hold it straight up.

"Thanking you!" he grinned.

Across the other side of the control room, Martha hopped up on a high chair and made herself comfortable. "So you were saying?" she asked, pulling the lid of her ice-cream pot back half-way.

The Doctor slid down in his chair slightly, getting comfortable. "It always seems to me, you always see what people want you to see," he said, casting her a sly grin before pulling his spoon free of the ice-cream. He jammed the spoon, with a generous amount of chocolate-flavoured frozen dessert, into his mouth and sucked at it cheerfully.

"Er… hang on, hang on…" she breathed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. After another minute he pulled the spoon out, pushing it back into the ice-cream.

"Oh come on!" he cried, grinning ear-to-ear. "It's _ea_sy!"

"Shut it, I'm thinking!" she protested.

He pulled the spoon out and popped it back in his mouth. She concentrated, tapping at her forehead for a long moment. It was too much for him and he rattled the spoon in his teeth maliciously, chuckling at her.

"Sshh!" she hissed. It was quiet for some minutes, only the sound of the creaks, groans, whirs and hums of the TARDIS to break the silence.

"Want some help?" he offered.

"Oh! Oh! I know!" she cried suddenly, opening her eyes. "_How long's it going to be before we_… oh! Guh! _Before we_… Oh! _Before we…_"

"_Before we get on the bus and cause no fuss_-" he began, but she squealed and interrupted him.

"_Get a grip on yourself it don't cost much_!" she shouted, and he laughed.

"See? That was too easy," he teased.

"Alright, hang on, my go," she said smartly, and he pushed his spoon back into the ice-cream.

"Ok, go ahead and try," he said smugly, "although I should point out I have a more than unfair advantage."

"Ok, hang on…" She thought for a long moment, the Doctor simply enjoying his chocolate ice-cream. "Right!" she cried suddenly, and he looked up, having forgotten pretty much everything that wasn't freezing and/or cocoa-endowed.

"Shoot," he said gamely.

"_My head is in a spin_," she said slowly, carefully, "_my feet don't touch the ground_."

"Ohhh, _easy_!" he heaved, chuckling. "_Because you're near to me, my head goes round and round_!" he cried, triumphant. She laughed as he pushed his hands in the air, ice-cream in one and spoon in the other, throwing his head back and singing at the top of his voice: "_My knees are shakin' baby, my heart it beats like a drum_!" He paused to make loud, high-pitched '_bow-bow bow-bow_' noises to the imaginary beat, pumping his arms up and down. She fell about laughing, then joined in and they sang together:

"_It feels like, it feels like I'm in love_!"

He added more '_bow-bow_' noises and she almost slid off the chair, laughing fit to burst. He looked over at her, sitting up in the chair more to see round the console, laughing at her indulgently.

"How the hell do you know Kelly Marie?" she managed, trying to get her breath back.

"That song is a UC!" he cried, still chuckling.

"UC?" she asked, wiping an eye and pushing herself back onto the chair properly.

"A Universal Constant," he grinned, and she laughed again. "Ok, my turn," he said brightly. "Oh, now," he teased, pointing his spoon at her. "_And the papers want to know whose shirt you wear_," he said triumphantly.

"Oh no!" she gasped, quickly filling her mouth with ice-cream. "Ok… hang on, hang on…"

He chuckled to himself, licking the ice-cream off his spoon and then digging it back in the tub. He was quite happy making a large dent in the contents as she muttered and made strangled, frustrated noises at herself over the course of the next few minutes.

"Want a hint?" he asked eventually, eyes all round and innocent.

"No!" she cried, then gasped. "Ooh I've got it – _now it's time to leave the capsule if you dare_!" she crowed suddenly, laughing. "A-ha!"

"No, David Bowie," he said smugly. "Although I have a few A-ha CDs lying around the place somewhere."

"Doctor!" she laughed, and he grinned at her, licking the spoon and chuckling to himself. "Right, my go, and this time, it's going to be _impossible_," she said melodramatically. "You'll _never_ get this one!"

"Try me," he said smugly, and she thought for a long moment.

"Ok, got it," she said, and he pushed the loaded spoon in his mouth, waiting. "_If there's nowhere to go, you won't go, if there's nowhere to run, you go slow_," she grinned.

He yanked the spoon from his mouth. "Oh _easy_, that's-." He stopped dead. "Oh - hold on," he said seriously, his grin fading.

She giggled and dug her spoon into her ice-cream quickly, pointing at him. "I've got you!" she squealed happily.

"Not yet, give me a chance, woman! Er, no. Girl? Love? Pet?" He huffed. "Oh, forget it - just let me think," he said seriously, putting the spoon back in his mouth and sniffing.

She continued to laugh and pulled the spoon from her ice-cream. "You'll _never_ get it," she said maliciously.

"I said wait!" he protested round his spoon, and she giggled, swinging her heels against the chair legs.

Suddenly the TARDIS pitched sideways abruptly before righting herself. Martha almost dropped her ice-cream. He found himself sliding off the chair but simply put his feet down, landing square and sticking the spoon in the pot securely.

"I'll come back to you," he said quietly to the pot, then leant over the console. "Ooh," he cooed, apparently curious. "Martha Jones?" he called over his shoulder. "How'd you like to go to the beach?"

"Yeah!" she agreed enthusiastically. "Have we landed?"

"We have indeed," he called brightly, snatching up his ice-cream pot and turning to look at her. "I warn you, it might be a bit _warm_," he added.

"Where are we?" she dared.

"Floccinaucinihilipilificus Prime," he said cheerfully, ladling another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth.

She looked at him for a long moment, then laughed out loud. "You _are_ joking!" she laughed. He swallowed quickly.

"No. It's actually called Floccinaucinihilipilificus Prime," he said, his smile dropping. "You haven't heard of it?"

She just laughed, then managed to stop herself, pushing her spoon in her ice-cream and sliding off the stool smartly. "Well just as long as you don't expect me to _say_ it," she said, and he smiled, setting the pot down and sliding his hands into the pockets of his brown suit trousers.

"Actually, it took _me_ about a week to get it right," he admitted. "Comes from the English word floccinaucinihilipilification, meaning-"

"Really, Doctor," she interrupted with a smile, "if it's got a beach and an ice-cream stall, I don't care what it means."

He nodded. "Ok then, let's go," he said, feeling in his pocket for his key. He turned and picked up his ice-cream tub, peered at the contents, and then set it down again, before walking down to the door. She followed, leaving her tub next to his.

"How hot is it out there?" she asked. "Will I need my jacket?"

"_Nah_," he stressed, shaking his head as he put his hand on the door handle. "It's about… ooh, I think about thirty degrees C, not a cloud in the sky, gorgeous light breeze - Wimbledon weather," he grinned affably, unbuttoning his own jacket, as if to take it off. She grinned.

He opened the door for her. She stepped out first. And screamed.

.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

**.**

"Well, that went surprisingly well," the Doctor commented grimly.

Martha stared at him. "Doctor, we're in a dungeon! A boiling hot, dark, humid, dank, smelly, black _dungeon_!" she cried, exasperated. She rattled her wrists in the chains holding them to the slick wall for emphasis.

"Well _yes_, I know that," he said dismissively. "Bit of a relief, really - sounded like they were just going to execute us at one point," he added conversationally.

"Why would they do that?" she asked clearly. "In fact, _why_ have we been arrested anyway?" she demanded angrily. "All we did was land and open the door! Then that alien bloke thing just grabbed us both, he didn't even explain!" she protested. "What are we supposed to have done?"

"That's something I'd like to ask someone in charge," he said firmly, then looked down at his feet. He tutted suddenly. "Oh, look at that," he complained, lifting his left foot and shaking it suddenly. "Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime. That's never coming off properly. That's another pair of Chucks ruined."

"Doctor, how do we get out of here?" she asked plainly. He looked up at her, appearing suspiciously comfortable against the opposite, slimy wall. He looked at his wrists, up in the chains, then back at her slowly.

"BeeGees?" he said suddenly.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"The song - _if there's nowhere to go, you won't go, if there's nowhere to run, you go slow_. The BeeGees?" he hazarded.

"No!" she cried, outraged that he could be thinking about songs while she was tasking herself with trying to find a way out of the shackles.

"The Beatles?" he guessed innocently.

"No!"

"Oh. The Who?" he asked, then screwed up his face and shook his head quickly. "Nah. Doesn't sound like them – oh hold on, I know," he said suddenly. "It's someone like The Darkness, right? Is it The Darkness?" he asked eagerly, grinning.

"Doctor!" she snapped impatiently.

His face fell instantly. "Oh alright," he huffed. "Honestly, you humans are no fun when you're trapped in small dark boil-in-the-shackles dungeons." He sniffed and straightened slightly. "Martha, your foot," he said seriously. She just looked at him. "Come on, your foot!" he urged. "Guess what I've got in my pocket!"

"Doctor, this is hardly the-" she began, on the verge of embarrassment. The penny dropped. "Oh! Right!" she gasped, then leaned back on the wall as far as she could, pressing herself into it and ignoring the wet, slick feel squishing against the back of her neck.

She lifted her foot and reached out, aiming for his suit jacket. Luckily, it was still unbuttoned and falling open, and she quickly thanked any passing major or minor deity for that small miracle.

"I can't reach," she observed, finding the gap between them just a foot too far. He looked at his wrists, then leaned forwards as much as he could. She pushed herself out as far as possible and her foot brushed his shirt, leaving slimy, wet green trails on it. "Oh god - this is just not going to work!"

"That's what _you_ say - come on," he said irritably. She took a deep breath and pushed, and he slid to one side. She found her foot pushing into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He twisted himself up with a grunt and she watched his sonic screwdriver suddenly dive out of the pocket and onto the wet floor. "There!" he grinned, leaning back against the wall and looking down.

"Great!" she said sarcastically, "Now it's in the green mud slime instead of in your pocket."

"But oh Martha Jones, watch this," he said proudly. "I learnt this from George Best."

"You _are_ joking," she sighed, but then watched as he moved his feet either side of the screwdriver, clamping it between his trainers.

He looked up to check where his wrists were, then shifted round slightly. "Right then, watch and be amazed," he grinned, looking down at his feet. Suddenly he jumped, flicking his feet out sideways. He made a grab for the screwdriver as it flew up into the air.

And then slapped back down into the green slime.

"Oh I am, _very_ amazed," she said with a small smile, despite herself. "George Best would be proud."

"Look, he never had to catch the ball afterwards, did he?" he grumped, and she bit her lip, watching him try again. This time he yanked on the chain and caught the screwdriver precariously balanced in just two of his long fingers. "See?" he grinned, shifting it round into his palm. "Ouch," he said suddenly, pulling his wrist back and hissing.

"Right well, now you've earned yourself a place in the Manchester United first squad, can we go?" she said eagerly. "I have to soak in a big bathtub until I've stopped stinking of this place," she added.

"Take That?" he guessed suddenly.

She stared at him. Hard. He shook his head and looked at the screwdriver, shaking it free of green gunk before flicking it on and getting one wrist free in seconds. He switched it to his other hand and got himself free, stepping away from the wall and wiping the back of his neck, making '_yeuk_' sounds and flinging the gathered muck to the floor.

"Doctor?" she asked patiently.

"Right, yes, sorry," he said quickly, still wiping at his neck as he opened her shackles for her. They landed on the ground heavily and he looked around. "Right then. We must be below the magistrate's block," he said thoughtfully. "Seriously, it's _not_ Take That?" he asked curiously.

"No Doctor, it's not Take That. When we're safely back in the TARDIS, and clean, then I'll tell you the answer to the song quiz," she said slowly.

"Oh alright, have it your way," he sighed. "Come on, let's get some answers."

The sound of scraping metal suddenly drowned everything out and they pushed their hands over their ears quickly.

"You!" a voice shouted, and they turned to find three guards, completely clothed in black, staring at them.

"Hello!" the Doctor said cheerfully, stepping in front of Martha innocuously. "Could we have a word with whomever's in charge?"

"How did you get free?" one guard raged, storming in and lifting a hand. Martha grabbed the Doctor's arm, looking round him. He turned to reassure her. The look on her face made him turn back quickly. He hadn't even straightened as the guard struck the taller Gallifreyan smartly about the face.

He crumpled and only Martha stopped him from landing in the slime. As it was she was pushed to her knees.

"Oi!" she shouted angrily. "You're not supposed to harm prisoners!"

"He's not harmed," the guard scoffed.

Martha looked him up and down, noticing that everything about him was covered. Only a tiny black slit in the general eye area made you believe something alive might be in there. As it was, he was five foot five of black triangle, with no discernible feet, but three long arms. One of which was holding some kind of threatening-looking device.

"How do you know that? He's not exactly telling jokes, is he?" she demanded, outraged, trying to heft the unconscious Doctor more upright.

"Bring them," the guard said succinctly, and Martha was grabbed roughly by the arms. The Doctor slipped from her grasp and landed on his side in the slime.

"Doctor! Oi! Get up!" she shouted, her voice hoarse. She struggled against the three hands holding her. "Let _go_ of me!"

The guard holding her simply lifted her off her feet and marched her out of the cell.

The other guard walked over and picked up the unconscious Doctor as if he weighed nothing, slinging him over his shoulder and following his colleague out of the cell and into the corridor.

The last guard simply looked around, checked the manacles against the wall, shook his concealed head, and followed.

.

* * *

.

The hall was large and very, very ornate. Martha had to admit she'd never seen so much silver; it decorated everything and anything, shining and singing its value to the aliens present.

She stared round herself, she couldn't help it. Perhaps fifty beings of all different shapes and sizes were hanging about, watching with interest and buzzing with conversation over the sight of a dirty, smelly young Earth female being held upright by the not-so-small hands of a guard.

The other guard walked in after them, still carrying the insensate Doctor over his shoulder easily. Martha heard someone shuffle in and wrenched on the guard's hold on her. She was able to catch a glimpse of the Doctor's legs dangling over the alien guard's shoulder.

She swallowed and looked back round as she heard trumpets and shouting. She recognised it as some kind of song, rather than just blaring. The aliens quickly shushed their twittering and retreated further from the left end of the hall.

Martha looked over, seeing a slightly raised dais and a large, overly-ornate chair. She suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"Her Supreme Majesty, Lady Alafor Belannti, Ruler of the Vast Lands of the North," came a loud voice.

"Oh. My. God," Martha whispered to herself, watching a very tall and very thin female flounce onto the stage and seat herself.

She certainly looked almost human, only the third arm making you look twice. She had long blonde hair, twisted into pretty plaits at each side, tied with flouncy red bows that reminded Martha of a child's doll. Her face was long and narrow, and on second glance, perhaps she was older than she seemed. Her long, impressive dress had a semi hoop in the bottom, and Martha half-expected her to start talking like an extra from a BBC production of '_Casanova_'. Instead she simply waved regally and leant back, watching with large, bright green eyes.

"Your Majesty," the guard behind her called. All eyes shifted to him, and by extension, Martha.

"Approach," the woman ordered.

The guard lifted Martha off her feet without apparent effort, walking forward. He stopped a good fifteen feet from the Queen, bowing and depositing Martha on the polished floor delicately.

"Found 'em hescapin', your Majesty," he said helpfully.

"Escaping what?" she drawled, in a very tight yet proper accent.

"Your own dungeons, mi'lady," he said, casting a sour look at Martha. She pulled her top straight and drew herself up resolutely.

"Really? Whatever were they doing in there?" the woman asked, bored.

"They'd parked on your beach, mi'lady," he said apologetically.

"Parked? On my beach? Oh my, my, my!" she said suddenly, sitting up and setting a harsh glare on Martha. "You, girl, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Pardon me, your Majesty," she said politely, trying to courtsy with no skirt, "but we didn't know it was your beach. The TARDIS just dropped us there, and, well, we-"

"The _what_?" she interrupted, staring wildly.

"The TARDIS, your Majesty," Martha said nervously.

"Then who are you, child?" she demanded tersely, putting a hand to the open neckline of her dress and leaning forward urgently. "Who are you? Quickly, quickly! Speak!"

"I'm Martha, your Majesty," she said helpfully. "Martha Jones. Not from round here," she added quietly.

"Oh!" the Queen said suddenly, leaning back in the throne and not caring that her relief was palpable. "I thought perhaps you were someone else." She looked away slowly, then looked over at Martha again quickly. "Did you come here by yourself, Jones?"

"No, I came with him, your Majesty," she said, chucking a thumb over her shoulder.

The Queen shot upright again, leaning to see. "You there!" she shouted to the guard currently standing with the Doctor casually hefted over his shoulder. "Bring that man to me!"

The guard lumbered forward and deposited the Doctor on the floor carelessly. Martha turned and pushed past her guard, avoiding his slow attempt at a grab on her arm. She dropped to her knees next to the Doctor, rolling him over onto his back and lifting his head from the cold floor.

"Doctor?" she said quickly, loosening his tie quickly and then rolling his head round to open an eyelid. "Doctor?"

"Did you called him 'Doctor'?" the Queen shouted suddenly.

Martha looked over at her. "Yes, your Majesty, and your ape there smacked him out cold!" she bit out.

The Queen took a deep breath, leant back, and opened her mouth.

"_GUARDS_!" she screamed.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

**.**

The wide, black-robed guards surrounded Martha and the still unconscious Doctor quickly.

"Why did no-one tell me he was here!" the Queen demanded.

Martha slapped lightly at the Doctor's face and his eyes popped open suddenly. He sat up as if pushed, looking around brightly.

"Oh. Nice hall," he said appreciatively, getting to his feet. "Hold on, what's all this-." He stopped to wipe his face, finding it slick with green slime still. "Oh blimey, Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime," he sighed sadly. "That's never coming off properly."

"Doctor!" the Queen shouted from behind him. "You _are_ the Doctor, are you not, sir?"

The Doctor looked up at Martha, then his eyes shifted slightly to one side, widening with something akin to fear. He focused again on Martha. "Is that a tall woman in yellow?" he whispered to her. She nodded. "Thin? Loud voice? Queeny-type?" he whispered quickly. She nodded again.

He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and then opened them again. Martha watched him take a deep breath and plaster a wide smile on his face before spinning round on the balls of his feet.

"Doctor! It _is_ you!" the Queen cried, deliriously happy, then stopped short. "Oh. You've changed!" she said suddenly. Martha looked from one to the other quickly, willing her jaw not to stick out.

"Yeah, just a bit," he grinned charmingly, letting his hands slide into his pockets. "How've you been then, Queenie?"

"Oh don't!" she giggled, her face going red suddenly. He chuckled indulgently and Martha folded her arms slowly. "The guards will think I've gone soft!"

"And we can't have that, can we, Queenie?" he winked broadly, and she waved air at her face, giggling. He wandered over, closer to the throne slowly.

Martha noticed the woman's eyes go up and down his suit as he walked over and leant an elbow on the statue next to her throne idly.

"Now listen here Maj, couldn't trouble you for a bath, could we? It's just that we've been pushed around the floor of one of your guest suites and, well," he said, looking apologetic and yet slightly devilish at the same time, "we're not exactly at our best."

"Oh, look at you, my Doctor," she purred, leaning forward in her throne. "I'm so dreadfully sorry about all that, darling. You know, I tell these people to watch out for your lovely blue box, and they never listen." She took in his face slowly. "You're so young now," she sighed. "How long has it been?"

"Oh, _years_," he stressed, mindful of who was listening.

"More like fifty," she giggled.

"Perhaps it just feels like fifty," he winked, and she giggled again.

"Well my dear, seeing as you _do_ look not entirely clean, I'll leave you in the capable hands of my staff. I _do_ apologise for your treatment, my dear Doctor."

"Can't be helped, I imagine," he said cheerfully. "All those wars to fight, all those armies to organise," he added. He took his left hand from his pocket then pulled on his ear innocently as he leaned nearer slightly, pinning her with a winningly arched eyebrow, "all those soldiers to see to."

She giggled again, beside herself with joy.

"Oh! You naughty boy! Don't make me put you across my knee," she blushed.

"Maybe _after_ I've had a bath, eh," he said to himself, turning away from her as he rubbed the back of his head slowly.

He found Martha watching him with distaste. He took a moment to acknowledge his own confusion at this.

"Guards, find this handsome young gentleman and his servant some quarters!" she called. Martha blinked.

"Now hang on there, Queenie old girl," he said quickly, noticing Martha's look of outrage. "She's my _friend_. And we're not staying."

"Oh, my dear Doctor, I think you are," she purred, and he swallowed. "Now then, rooms please!" she shouted, clapping her hands.

Guards once more descended on them, but this time waved them back toward the door.

"And don't worry about me, Doctor, I know where you'll be sleeping tonight!" she cooed as they made it out of the door.

.

* * *

.

They were led down a hallway, full of tapestries and paintings, antique vases and plush carpets. Martha strode along, arms folded, ignoring everyone and everything. The Doctor ambled along, hands in his sticky pockets, taking surface interest in the pretty, shiny things that adorned the long corridor.

Suddenly a guard stepped in front of them and then stopped. "In here, please sir," he said formally, waving to a door. The Doctor put his hand out and pushed it open, spying similar opulence inside. "And miss," the guard said politely, waving her on down the hallway.

"Ah - wait a tick," the Doctor said quickly, reaching out and grabbing Martha's elbow. She shook him off neatly. "She's staying with me," he said forcefully.

The guard turned to him. "My instructions were –"

"Like hell she is!" Martha hissed, and he looked down at her.

"Martha, shut up," he said quickly, then looked at the guard. "Look here, good man," he said gently, "if she doesn't come with me, I'll be displeased. And then I'll have to tell the Queen you upset me. See?"

"I… see," the guard said slowly.

The Doctor opened his eyes wide in sympathy, looking at the guard as if a small child. "Will she be pleased with you?" he asked slowly.

"No."

"So is this girl coming with me?" he asked, bordering on patronising. Martha watched, unable to comprehend why the guard was letting this Gallifreyan get away with talking down to him like this.

"Yes, sir," the guard said slowly.

"Thanks," he said quickly, pulling Martha by the arm and whisking her into the room.

She waited until the door was firmly shut before turning and walloping him hard in the chest.

"Ow! What now?" he demanded, massaging the stinging area desperately.

"You little - _gah_!" she spluttered, turning away.

"What?" he demanded, confused. "Look, get to the window and get it open," he said quickly, going through his pockets and finding his screwdriver, trying to flick green slime off it hurriedly. He realised it had already dried and tutted.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we leaving?" she asked airily. "I thought you'd want to spend time with your very good friend the Queen!" she accused, staring at him.

He realised he was very lucky that looks could not literally kill. "Blimey, who bit all the chocolate coating off of _your_ Kit-Kat?" he cried, confused. "Look, we have about an hour before she sends someone for us, so come on, we need to find out where the TARDIS is and get back there before-"

"Before what?" she demanded. "Before that woman finds you and manages to convince you that this world needs you? That something here needs your _expert touch_?" she said sarcastically. "Don't think she'll miss us when we're gone, Doctor, and don't think there one single thing on this planet that needs your help!"

"You think she'd stroll in here and tell me some sob story, and I'd feel obliged to help?" he asked innocently.

"Yes! Absolutely yes! Because I've seen it happen before!" she challenged.

He paused and then flicked his gaze over her head suddenly. He thought for a second, then looked back at her. "Perhaps," he admitted calmly. "But believe me, there is _nothing_ in all the worlds that would convince me to stay anywhere _near_ her," he breathed.

"Why? Just how do you know her?" she cried.

"Do you really want to go into this now?" he demanded. "I'd much rather laugh about all this later, behind big thick TARDIS doors."

She pouted, then huffed. "Point taken," she admitted, and he nodded.

"Good girl. Window," he said tersely.

She sent him one last glare before heading to the window and pulling the catch, opening it slowly. "It's going dark," she said over her shoulder, as she heard the familiar sound of the screwdriver.

"Good. That'll make things easier," he said. "Their eyesight's poorer than ours in the dark."

"So what's the plan, Batman?" she asked stiffly. "Just jump out of the window and run like hell?"

"Sounds good," he said, nodding to himself and flicking off the screwdriver. "The TARDIS is about three miles that way," he said, pointing at the window.

He walked over and pushed the window open higher, sticking his head out and looking over the landscape. "Er, Martha," he said quietly, then brought his head back inside.

"What?" she asked stiffly.

"Look, do you trust me to get us out of this trap and back to the TARDIS?" he asked plainly. She looked up into his face, his face distorted with worry.

"I suppose," she admitted grudgingly.

"Really?" he pressed seriously. "No matter what we have to do?"

"You say that like we'll be… Oh _no_, what is it?" she asked, turning to the window and looking out. And down.

"We're a few floors up. Hope you don't mind heights," he said, turning and moving her to one side, putting his foot out of the window.

"Oh bloody hell," she sighed to herself. "Why couldn't I have ended up with someone from _Star Trek_ instead?" she said flippantly.

"Be glad you didn't - you're wearing a red shirt," he observed. "And everyone knows that means this is about the moment you'd fall and d-"

He tumbled out of the window suddenly and she gasped, leaning over to make a grab for him.

"I'm alright," he called up, his hands round the drainpipe running just outside the window. He scrambled to get his feet back on the wide ledge, designed to carry heavy air-conditioning units. She breathed out a sigh and then shook her head.

She waited till he was moving down the ledge, and then put her foot out of the window. She edged after him and they made it to the drainpipe.

"_Allons_-y," he smiled bravely, grabbing the pipe and swinging his feet down quickly. He found the bricks in the wall and started his way down.

Martha stood on the ledge of the Queen's Royal Palace of Floccinaucinihilipilificus Prime, her shoulders, neck and legs below the knee coated in Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime, and looked out over the green hills and brown trees slowly turning to scary black shadows as the suns set quickly.

She sighed, then simply turned and grabbed for the drainpipe, starting her way down.

.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

**.**

"Right, Queen: avoided, palace: escaped from. Now all we have to worry about is getting across the fields," he said, bending over with his hands on his knees, watching her jump to the ground as he got his breath back.

She wiped her hands together and looked at him for a long moment, letting herself breathe and appreciate that she hadn't just fallen three stories. "Look, Doctor, I'm sorry about being all - girlie," she said slowly.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" he asked conversationally, straightening up and watching her walk past him, toward the grass verge.

"Probably not," she allowed, shaking her head at herself.

"Martha, don't move!" he said suddenly. She stopped, one foot in the air.

"What?"

"These fields look solid but they're not," he said quickly. "Here look, let me go first," he said dismissively, walking past her and putting his foot further out, testing the grass before letting it take his weight. He turned and looked at her. "Come on then," he said brightly, stretching his right hand out toward her.

She looked at him, taking in the way he tacitly expected her to let him lead her across mysteriously 'not solid' ground, simply because he was offering his hand, in that typically arrogant way he had.

She grinned and took hold of it firmly, and he smiled a confident display of understanding, turning and starting out across the green sea slowly.

.

* * *

.

They inched along and it was a good hour before she plucked up the courage.

"So, the Queen then - old flame, is she?" she called ahead to him.

"She wishes," he snorted, testing the ground with his foot before leaning on it and shuffling forward.

"So how did you meet her?" she asked gamely. "Come on, this is taking ages."

"Elton John!" he crowed suddenly, stopping and looking back at her.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Elton John! _If there's nowhere to go, you won't go, if there's nowhere to run, you go slow_-"

"Doctor!" she growled in frustration. "No it is _not_ an Elton John song!"

"Oh. Well let me think, then," he said, a little disheartened, carrying on with his shuffling and testing, shuffling and testing. She simply followed, deciding to abandon her quest for information. "They'll know we've gone by now," he said suddenly, seriously. "It's just a matter of time before they follow us. We may have to risk a bit of a sprint, I think."

"Fine by me," she said heartily. "I'm just about solidifying with all this gunk on me. You owe me a new top, new jeans, and new shoes," she sniffed.

"Martha Jones, when we get back to the TARDIS I'll scrub you myself," he said innocently. "It was my fault, after all."

"I'm not five you know," she said quickly, pushing sudden images from her head, "but anyway, you weren't to know we'd landed on her beach."

"Is that what got us arrested?" he called over his shoulder. "Touchy girl, that one."

"Hmm. Very touchy, if she had her way," she observed.

"Oh yes!" he said suddenly with disgruntled conviction. "Last time I was here, she-." He went silent suddenly. He sniffed to himself and cleared his throat slowly. "Anyway," he said quietly, and she realised he was not at all happy.

She decided to leave it and simply followed him across the grass obediently.

"Doctor," she said suddenly, and he paused.

"What?"

"They're onto us," she said urgently. He looked back at her, then past her to the small swarm of lights following behind them.

"Hmm. A mile away, maybe less," he said. He looked at the one field left before the open sand of the beach. He bit his lip, then looked past her again.

"Can we make it?" she dared, not wanting to look behind her again.

"If we run," he said, undecided.

"And you don't want to?" she realised.

"Not really," he said gingerly. "These fields are full of swamps. If you fall into one, you're pretty much stuck fast."

"Ah. In green slime?" she asked.

"In green slime. Which doesn't really matter, cos you sink in and it's game over," he added philosophically. She nodded, then looked back.

"Well then. It's stumble along like this and get caught, or run for our lives and possibly die in Flock - flockin - flockin-aukini - stuff!" she said.

"Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime," he supplied helpfully, and she smiled. He sighed and turned round to look at her, his face now much more serious. "So," he said quietly. She waited. "What do we do, Martha Jones? Stumble along or toss caution to the wind and make a run for it?" he asked curiously.

She looked at him, taking in his rather too serious gaze, his jaw set to one side, his large brown eyes watching her speculatively.

"Really?" she asked quietly. "I decide and we'll just do it?"

"Yep," he said, shrugging slightly.

She swallowed. "What if I'm wrong?"

"There's no such thing as _wrong_," he smiled suddenly, "only _less right once all the facts are in_."

She grinned, then squeezed his hand suddenly. "Then we run," she said.

"Run."

"Yes!"

"Ok," he said simply, turning back round to look over the field. "Stay behind me. If I fall, let go as fast as you can."

"What?" she demanded. "You think I'm just going to-"

"Yes," he said suddenly, turning back to look at her. "If I fall, I'll drag you down in a heartbeat. Let me go and make a run for it - straight for the TARDIS."

"And then?" she dared, feeling her chest constrict.

"And then she'll take you home. She knows where you live," he said quietly.

"Doctor…" She looked at her feet, then up at him. "Doctor, I promise I'll let you go if you fall."

"Good girl," he said, relieved.

"If you promise me that _you'll_ let _me_ go if _I_ fall," she added quickly.

"Now, Martha, come on-"

"No! Fair's fair!" she grinned.

He looked at her for a long moment, thinking, it seemed. "When I first met you, I just took my tie off," he mused quietly, and she blinked, confused. "Just stood there, right in front of you, and all I did was take my tie off." He sighed forlornly. "I should have just grabbed you and run. Right then. Right there," he added, as if to himself.

She squeezed his fingers. He sucked in a deep breath, straightening and letting the look of sadness wash from his face in an instant.

"Fine, have it your way. Come on then!" he cried.

He began to run and she felt herself pulled along. She tried to keep up but he was a bit of a sprinter.

They were nearly across the field.

Fifty feet.

Forty feet.

_We're going to make it!_

Thirty feet –

She felt her feet sliding and realised the ground beneath her was giving way. She yanked on his hand to let go.

She tumbled round and downwards, feeling hot, rank slime and earth all around her. She clamped her mouth shut and tried to hold her breath as earth and slime pressed on her face and body.

She felt some of it fall away and she opened her eyes, looking down to find a chasm opening up under her. Suddenly she was swinging freely above a bed of reeking slime, as if she'd simply fallen through the tiny ventilation hole in the lid of a giant compost bin.

She spat out the smell from her mouth and shook her head, lifting her free hand to knock the slime from her face.

"Martha!" he shouted at her angrily. She looked up. "I told you to stay behind me!"

"I _was _behind you!" she shouted back.

She realised the painful clamping on her wrist was his hand. Earth tumbled over her suddenly in a small shower. She shook it from her face and looked up. He was lying on his front along the edge of the hole, one arm out holding her wrist. The fallen soil had come from the verge under him.

She knew what came next.

"Doctor!" she called. "Let go! Quickly!"

"Don't be stupid!" he called back, his face red, his teeth clenched from the exertion of shouting and taking her weight on one hand.

"You'll fall! We'll _both_ fall!" she protested. "Let go! Before you get pulled down!"

"Shan't!" he shouted petulantly through gritted teeth.

She felt herself growl with frustration. "You promised!" she accused, feeling a lump in her throat. _My mum, Leo… Tish… Dad…_

"Then I lied!" he shouted angrily.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting her head fall slowly.

_So this is it,_ she thought wildly. _This is the day I leave them. And they'll just think it was some accident on the M25, or worse. There'll be posters up asking people if they've seen me, if anyone's found a body in the woods. And they'll never stop looking._

She realised her face was wet and sniffed, wiping it quickly and looking back up at the alien lying between her and a very messy death.

The alien.

_The_ alien.

"Let go," she whispered. She cleared her throat. "I'm not dragging you down too!" she called clearly.

"Martha Jones," he said indignantly. "You've _never_ dragged me down! Now come on, get up!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her face wet.

_How long's he been doing this? He knows everything, he's seen everything… He __is__ someone, someone important and useful and needed and wonderful. What happens if he doesn't get out of here? What happens to all those places that can't look out for themselves? Those strange far-away places that are waiting for his accidental help, but just don't know it yet?_

She sniffed, seeing possible futures play out in her head in a flash.

_So he's the brave one, is he? I'll show him 'brave'._

She tugged on her wrist.

.


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

**.**

"_No_! What are you doing!" the Doctor demanded desperately.

"Someone has to do the logical thing, Doctor, and we both know it's not going to be you right now," she called with false cheer. She felt more earth fall and he slid an inch closer to the edge. "See? It's one of those _now or never_ moments," she managed, swallowing her tears.

"Martha Jones!" he bellowed angrily, catching her by surprise. "If you let go I'll tell your mum you were working for the RSPCA!"

She actually laughed suddenly.

"And you still haven't told me the answer to the quiz! How unfair is that?" he demanded, but as she looked up she noticed he was moving away from the side. She was jerked up slightly, and she put her hand to the wall next to her. It simply gave and she cried out as she dropped a good few inches.

He was pulled to the edge, where he stopped. For now.

"How about I tell you right now and _then_ you let me go?" she dared.

"How about you stop yakking and start making an effort to get up here!" he accused angrily. "You humans! You just take the first opportunity to chuck in the towel!"

She felt him pulling on her wrist and did her best to dig her feet into the side wall next to her. He yanked and pulled, apparently inching back from the edge.

She slipped and banged against the edge, pulling him back with her. One of his legs appeared over the edge and for a second she expected him to plummet down next to her, sending them both tumbling down into the foetid grave.

_That brown suit_, she thought suddenly. _I've always liked that brown suit of his. Fits him so well. And he'll never know what it does for him, like he has absolutely no clue. And now it's the last thing I'll see._

But he slid his leg over the side and turned it, digging his foot in. She could not understand what he was doing until she was dragged up quickly.

She felt the hope and decided not to waste it. She simply closed her eyes and scrabbled as best she could.

She opened her eyes as she found no more wall to climb, and smelt the fresher air of the field again. She found herself at waist-height to the field and then he let go of her wrist. She pulled herself out laboriously, rolling onto her back on the field.

She looked up at the stars, automatically thinking that they weren't _her_ stars, that she'd nearly died on some strange planet. And no-one would have known, or cared.

_Except for-._

She turned on her side and looked over quickly, finding him gasping and struggling as he climbed back over the top of the hole and simply fell flat on his face in the grass.

She pushed herself to sit up, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. She put her hands over her face, willing herself not to cry.

_I nearly died! I nearly died! And all because of him! And then I nearly sacrificed myself to save him - what a stupid, stupid thing to do!_ she raged silently. _But he's so alone, so used to putting everything right and then disappearing like he was never there…_

She realised, if ever it came time to choose again, that she'd do exactly the same thing.

_He couldn't let me die here without my family, could he? He just couldn't let that happen! He had to go and mention my mum, had to make me feel bad, had to make me want to climb out! I hate him! He might just be my best friend-_

She realised she was crying after all as she took a big sniff, trying to wipe her face. She heard him moving on the grass and turned away abruptly, hoping he wouldn't see it.

She was surprised to feel his hand on her back, and then she heard him fall to sit on the grass behind her. She couldn't stop herself; she turned round and grabbed him, her head against his neck, and sobbed.

"Aw Martha," he said awkwardly, putting an arm round her and rubbing her upper arm slowly. "It's the smell of the Floccinaucinihilipilificus slime, I know. Good job I've got a few of these suits," he rattled off quickly, but she recognised bravado when she heard it.

She pulled her head back and looked at him. Earth and green slime, both old and new, caked one half of his face and his hair.

"I was trying to save you," she blurted. "You _always_ save everyone else, and they never know. I just wanted to do something for you."

He grinned widely, but she saw the water in his eyes. "_Ohh_," he stressed, searching for words, it seemed. "You didn't have to do that for daft old me," he protested suddenly, closing his eyes and pulling her into a very secure hug. She held onto him desperately, wondering just for whose benefit this hug was. "Blimey, Martha Jones, you don't half know how to make an old man worry," he added, and she laughed suddenly.

She pulled herself away, sad to be leaving the warm touch of an alien but knowing recent events had to come back into focus. "You're not old, you just think that way," she managed, getting to her feet slowly. She looked down at him, then put her hand out.

He just took it and got to his feet, then looked back. "Right then. Twenty feet of grass and about a hundred yards of beach - then we're home free," he said, oddly softly.

She couldn't meet his eyes.

She simply pulled on his hand and ran.

.

* * *

.

She barrelled into the TARDIS and he followed smartly, slamming the doors and running to the console. She simply grabbed at the edge of it, getting her breath back and watching him as he flipped and pushed, yanked and played with the many and varied controls.

"And we're off!" he cried, relieved, standing back and watching the Time Rotor start and speed quickly.

She felt the familiar sensation of not quite being sure where her feet were, then suddenly everything was back to normal and there was the vibration of movement under her boots.

She lifted her chin to look at him, somewhat sheepishly. He just raised his eyebrows at her with infinite expectation.

"Well?" he asked gamely.

"Well what?" she asked gingerly, straightening and pushing hair and random bits of dried slime from her face.

He peeled off his stinking brown suit jacket and chucked it toward a support beam. He let his hands fall into his pockets, then sniffed and looked around the control room, before pinning her with a stern gaze, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't you have something to say to me?" he asked haughtily.

"Yes," she said simply. "Thank you," she added humbly.

"What?" he asked, his face screwing up in patent confusion.

"Thank you! For saving me from myself and that awful, stinking-"

"No, no, no!" he cried, outraged. "Martha Jones! As I'd ever expect a 'thank you' for helping you!" he tutted, turning away abruptly and walking round the console, looking at various instruments.

"Then what?" she asked, confused. She folded her arms and followed him.

"The answer! To the song lyrics quiz!" he cried, looking at her suddenly with abject disbelief on his face. "What was it?"

She looked at him for a long moment, catching a glimpse of the world inside his head, realising that everything they'd just been through was too much to talk about just now.

_Perhaps we'll do that later, over hot tea and a few chocolate Hob Nobs. It's so hard to say. He might never acknowledge today to me. Or himself. Then again, he might suddenly mention it to my mum next time. You just never know with him, do you?_

"What?" he asked knowingly, having waited out her searing gaze patiently for once.

"You said you'd get it in time," she smiled slowly.

"Give," he said simply.

"Oh, alright. Although it must annoy you to have been beaten by a lowly _trainee_ doctor with a limited knowledge of-"

"Give!" he cried suddenly, and she giggled.

"_If there's nowhere to go, you won't go, if there's nowhere to run you go slow,_" she sang, this time copying the melody faithfully. Dawning comprehension ran over his features slowly, making her giggle. "_If you move up to me then I'll show - you the way-_"

"_Then you'll know - How to squeeze me!_" he interrupted suddenly, then slapped his hand to his head, rubbing his hands into his hair and making strangled sounds of frustration.

"_You know how to please me! You're learning it easy!_" she sang, then collapsed into laughter as she watched him demonstrate how much he hated himself for not recognising it earlier.

"Of all the - gah! Martha Jones, you little _minx_!" he protested, his voice jammed up in the high notes. "Slade! Of all the-! Slade! '_Skweeze Me, Pleeze Me_'!" he crowed, drumming his palms on the console loudly, laughing at her. She chuckled at him for a long moment, and the TARDIS reverberated gratefully with laughter. "And I should know that one!"

"Had some good times to that song, have you?" she asked, interested suddenly.

He let his sudden exuberance die quickly. "Well," he dithered, pulling at his ear as he studied the ceiling intently, "maybe."

She laughed and shook her head. "Sounds like I don't want to know," she allowed, prepared to let it all wash over her head.

"Alright, hang on, I've got one for _you_!" he said suddenly.

"Well?"

"I'll make it easy for you - you can have the entire first verse," he teased.

"What!" she cried, grinning.

"_Follow through, make your dreams come true, don't give up the fight, you will be alright, cos there's no-one like you in the universe_," he said smugly.

She gasped, slapping her hands to her face and thinking madly.

"Wait, wait, that's new, I've heard that one! Wait a minute - wait a minute!" she squealed.

"Nope," he said delightedly, popping the 'p' sound. "Too late!"

"No!" she cried, but his hands were already in his pockets, and he threw his head back, eyes closed, singing raucously as if his life depended on it.

"_During the struggle they will pull us down, but please, please let's use this chance to turn things around!_" he sang, all his breath into it, and she gasped with recognition.

She took a deep breath and sang with him:

"_And tonight we can truly say: together we're invincible!_"

She laughed and he reached out for her, pulling her into a hug and squeezing tightly. And for the first time, she simply held onto him and was glad he was there at all.

.

**FIN**

.

* * *

Apologies for the time it took me to repost this so that the planet name was back in again. Thanks, FF, for not telling me you had edited it out AFTER I'd checked it. And thank you, dear readers, for actually getting through this story!


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